In the Beginning
by Millford
Summary: This is a tale of possibly the four most inspirational people in magical history. Or so the stories say. Do you know how Salazar himself was a muggle born, and that Gryffindor saved his life? Or that Helga's humble upbringing was disturbed by three raggedy strangers turning up on her doorstep? This is the story of the founders of Hogwarts. Read, enjoy, review and follow! Thanks :)
1. Chapter 1

sorry this is in a POV, I don't normally write like this but wasn't sure how to start it off, so...

Salazar's POV

...

I gasped for breath; looking behind me I saw the group of boys hot on my heels, laughing and pushing to front of the gang. I sped up, pushing my way through the ever-growing crowd. Knocking over a table, I blurted out an apology to the affronted family. Why couldn't I just get away, just be free from the village where my mother depends on me to feed on the family, where i have no chance o escaping this hell...

I closed my eyes, felt a rush of cool air, and gasped. Where was I? I felt a strange warmth flood through my body. I felt as if I could do anything, go anywhere, I felt almost... special.

I let out a laugh, something I had only done a few times before, when father was still around. I doubled over, my body dhaking with my hysterical laughter.

Lying down on the dust ridden ground, gasping for air, I realised how thirsty I was. The strange warmth flooded my body, and I noticed a strange noise, trickling through the air like the wings of an angel. A river! To my right lay a small river that I had not noticed before, flowing through the rock, winding its way for miles and miles, with fresh, clean water that enticed me with it's magical flow. I stumbled over and took great handfuls of water, drinking them and splashing them over my face, cooling myself down in the warm autumn day.

Refreshed, cool and ready to face whatever lay before me, I looked around, taking in my surroundings. I appeared to be on some kind of path, that branched off, the left fork leading to a small village with a grand manor on the outskirts, the right led of the what seemed to be a forest, although it looked like there might be some kind of building within the trees. I shivered, something about the trees filled me with dread and awe, a strage mix of emotions that I did not apreciate, so I too the left path, sstumbling at the steep inclene.

The path was strewn with small rocks and pebbles, that I could feel through my worn sandals. I stopped every now again, washing my feet with the stream that seemed to follow the path into the river.

I reached the village by dusk, stumbling into what appeared to be a square, although night was falling quickly now so i couldn't be sure. I shivered, it had grown cold and I knew if I didn't sleep indoors tonight, I would freeze to death in my shorts and ripped shirt. I sighed, and again the strange feeling, instead of flowing through my body, went directly to my hands. I jumped, as a flame erupted from my hands, I gasped and hid my hands behind my back, hiding them from view from any watching eyes. Although they were hot, it didn't burn and I smiled, glad of a distraction from my life. I frowned soon after thoug. What was happening to me? First I transport myself to this place, and then I create fire? What if I'm a - I couldn't be, it's impossible! I soon spotted an alcove in a small stone building and settled down for the night. My thoughts soon turned to my family, how would they be without me? I suppose it does't matter any more, there gone now. I smirked, and my mind slowly drifted off...

I woke up, early that morning, to whispers and voices that sounded scared. I sat bolt upright, hitting my head on the stone alcove. I rubbed it, and looked around, to see dozens of faces looking at me, some scared, or awestruck, and some just looking furious. I wondered why, and then caught a glimpse of orange out of the corner of my eye. My hand was still on fire. I groaned, I knew what happened to people like this, people like me. I had seen it happen twice before, and each time I had felt a sense of exhileration, of excitement. But not know, not when I was faced with the prospect of- of- of being burnt. I couldn't deny it any longer, now that I was rested, wasn't thisty or hungry and I couldn't blame it on being a hallucination.

I was a wizard.

...


	2. Chapter 2-The Beginning of Something New

Chapter 2: the Beginning of Something New  
The little boy slouching, daydreaming, on the four poster bed draped with gold and scarlet hangings looked around the grand room, dressed with tapestries depicting scenes of war , of despair, and of glory.  
The room had an impressive ceiling, painted with angels, walking side by side with lions across the plains of a great land, mountainous and beautiful.  
Around the room were items of both youth and heritage. A large sword hung, glinting in the late afternoon sunlight, on the wall, and below lay a toy ship, apparently hand carved : the wood was rough yet detailed.  
A shrill yet musical bell resinated throughout the astounding room, seeming to jerk the boy back to reality; he shook his head as if clearing it from a far fetched fantasy.  
He walked confidently to the door, stopping only to gaze at the moving portrait of a middle aged man, seemingly dressed for war, perched on a white stallion, his back straight and a look of fierce pride etched on his young, but tired face, pronounced cheekbones and dark, dark brown hair sitting perfectly on his head.  
"Be proud father, I promise I won't let you down, ever. I can't let you down," the boy said, a practised tone in his voice, his words catching as he traced the man, blinking back tears of both woe and pride.  
He left the room, a solitary tear rolling down his cheek and onto his blue shirt.  
The boy entered a room just as impressive as the last, taking his place at a long table that was now siting just four people. He smiled at them all, although the smile did not quite reach his eyes.  
The older woman at the head of the table beckoned to the boy, a look of grief briefly crossed her thinned face, before it was replaced by a kind smile.  
A girl, around 16 stood up and skipped over to the boy whispering in his year," Godric, I have a plan to get to the village, although knowing your appetite we won't get a mile before you want to get back for dinner," she breathed, chuckling slightly at his look of joking dismay.  
"Rowena Ravenclaw, how dare you even suggest such a thing, especially in front of such a respects lady and these to vagabonds." The boy, Godric burst into such an enchanting laugh that everyone in the room laughed with him, until the two younger children had to be calmed down.  
His mother, for that's who the older woman was, shook her head at the two friends, exasperated at their childish behaviour.  
As they took their seats at the table, two simply but well dressed servants came out, giving each member of the merry group a platter, full of extravagant foods that made Godrics mouth water and silently agree with Rowena.  
Later that night him and Rowena found an alcove and began their plan for the next day...

As the day dawned early that morning, just as the birds started to sing and the other wildlife in the nearby woods and grounds began to wake and go about their daily business Godric got dressed stealthily, packing a hunting bag with supplies for the day, a book, a decanter of water, his wooden sword that lay, as always, beside his bed. He packed a ball and a spare woollen jumper, it was very fresh in the early autumn morning.  
He made his way as quietly as possible down the the hallway, were he left a note on an old piece of parchment for his mother so as to not worry her.  
He waited patiently on the stone steps outside the building, watching a robin find food dot it's family, turning back to the house every now and again, searching for any signs of life.  
At last, after the robin had left and other birds had taken the cheerful birds place, Rowena came to sit beside him, breathing in deep breaths of the cold morning air.  
Godric turned to her, almost gasping as he saw what she was wearing; an old pair of trousers that had belonged to Godric before he had grown out of them and an old jumper of her fathers that she had always lived to wear.  
He grinned at her, he had always like when she surprised him like this, a strange feeling bubbling in the pit of his stomach.  
They stood up silently, in unison, taking gulps of fresh air, and walked towards the orchard, autumn leaves crunching beneath their energetic feet.  
As they reached the golden trees, they both walked simultaneously towards a pear tree, picking up a blow and arrow each from the fruitful tree.  
Slinging them over their shoulders, they made their way through the crisp autumn morning. They passed through dark, ominous woods, through light clearings and shady spots of peace.  
Eventually, after at least three hours of hitting back branches, collecting berries and fruit and participating in joyous banter, the twosome found their way out of the woodland and into a large field, with a few cows and sheep scattered across the land.  
The pair walked straight towards a lone tree in the centre of the field, Godric hopped up agilely onto a thick branch, slinging his bag onto a thinner branch, and offering down a hand to Rowena, who promptly ignored it and followed Godrics path up the tree, jumping over him nimbly and sitting down next to him, taking a large bite out of an apple she had plucked off one of the many apple trees in the orchard.  
She and Godric talked about nothing in particular, leaning against each other in the large tree, relying on the other to keep them up in the tree. Godric, growing bored of the stillness and calm, rolled out of the tree, dragging Rowena with him.  
They tumbled to the ground together, landing side by side, laughing.  
Rowena shook her head, chuckling to herself, brushing off the leaves and dirt that clung to her clothing like glue.  
They walked across the field, sun high in the sky, talking about what they would do when they reached their destination, what mischief they could cause.


	3. Chapter 3-A Life Is Saved

Chapter 3: A Life is Saved

The pair wandered onto a path, a stream trickling down the hillside, threatening to flow onto the path.  
Godric stooped down, filling up a canteen of water and took a long, refreshing gulp from it.  
He offered it to Rowena, who shook her head but leant down to wash her face in the cool water.  
They continued down the rustic path, taking in the beautiful, idillic countryside view.  
As they reached the outskirts of a village, Godric stopped, pointing at a guard at the gates of the small town.  
He gestured to the wall and, without warning, took a sweeping look and sprinted towards the wall and jumped, much higher than any human could. He scaled the wall easily and landed with a soft thud on the other side.  
It was Rowena's turn next. She walked slowly towards the wall, closed her eyes and took a deep breath, readying herself. She flicked her wrist, a wave of air flew towards the brick wall, knocking a whole just large enough for her to walk through.  
No one looked around. No one had noticed the strange occurrence. No one had even seen the young girl emerge from the rubble, dusting down her manly clothes.  
In fact, everyone around her appeared to be slightly confused, a dazed looks on their worn faces.  
Godric ran over to her, astounded.  
"What was that, I mean, you, what?", he stuttered, utterly surprised that such a dainty girl could pull off such a powerful magical feat.  
She simply smiled at him, wandering over to a market stall in the busy square. She paid for a loaf of bread, chuckling as the stall holder gasped at the gold coin she gave for payment.  
Breaking the bread in two, she handed half to Godric, who devoured it hungrily, and kept half to herself, tearing a hunk off and chewing on it thoughtfully.  
"What is the crowd doing? They're all carrying something, but what?"  
Godric shrugged, more interested in the other foods the stall holders were selling. Rowena grabbed his arm as he started to walk towards a stall selling some kind of stew, pulled herself up and dragged him to the crowd, who were onlooking some kind of firewood pile.  
Rowena started to run, through the crowd, past the crowd, and towards a stone building slightly larger than the rest.  
Above the building's door were words, inscribed into a wood panel that read;  
Ye Olde Prisone, Where the Wickedest Live Out Their Pitiful Lives.  
Godric rolled his eyes at the dramatic nature of this notice, when in this town, which could barely be called a town it was so small, the most that ever happened would be a hungry boy stealing from market stall: Godric doubted that it had ever housed someone truly wicked. How wrong he was, but he had no idea of the betrayal that was to come.  
He sighed as Rowena continued to make her way through the growing array of people, now no longer apologising for knocking people, an urgent look upon her face. He started to run, readying himself to attempt to calm her down, which was nigh on impossible to do when she was in one of her moods.  
Finally, he reached her when she was approaching the building, bent double, gasping for breath and signalling at her to explain her actions.  
"Can't you tell Godric? It's happening again, we have to stop it, otherwise someone will be hurt and it will get out of control!" Rowena spluttered, trying to see inside the few cells, searching for signs of life.  
"What? What's happening again and why do we need to stop it? I don't understand," Godric said quietly, unwilling to admit he did not know something for once.  
"Godric, it's bad. It's the witch hunts."

He took a step back, heart pounding in his chest.  
"But father stopped them. He promised that..." Godric said, a look of angry determination ripping across his face. "How dare they! How dare they dishonour him! After all he did for them, for us!"  
Rowena nodded, sadness pouring into a look of regret and sadness.  
Godric pushed through the crowd, panicking, making his way to the front of the bustling cluster.  
"What do you think you are doing?" He asked the crowd, who were not listening in the slightest.  
"Do you not remember him? Can you not remember the times when he saved you. Saved you all? Are you really that incapable of thinking? How can you not remember it? How can you not remember that he gave his life for you ALL?" Godric choked up, memories of his father fresh in his mind.  
The crowd started to pay attention, many bowing their heads in shame at Godric's noble words.  
"He is not here anymore. Because of you. Because of your own stupidity. All those years he kept you alive, supported you, stopped you from becoming monsters, and you just ignore it. Just toss it away like it means nothing. HOW CAN YOU DO THAT TO HIS MEMORY!" Godric screamed, his voice hoarse but loud. The crowd began to mumble apologies, many wept a silent tear or nodded their heads in agreement. A few looked angry, offended at such an outburst, but a group of about ten men walked over to Godric, each bowing to him and offering him a gift of sorrow. They walked over to the prison where Rowena stood, fierce pride showing on her striking face.  
They opened the door to the cell that held the prisoner, motioning for the man to come out. A few cries of anger and fear were expressed, many people evidently did not agree with Godric, and thought the witch or wizard should be burnt.  
As the prisoner revealed himself, Godric took a step backwards, shocked at how young this boy was, as he was just a boy. He quickly stepped in front of him, protecting him from any ill wishing citizens. He checked the boy was alright, scanning him for signs of bing beaten or hurt.  
Although looking a little malnourished, the boy was unharmed, and, without thinking, ushered the boy towards Rowena, who took his hand and led him partly back up the steep hill. Godric gave one last look at the ashamed village and said,"a boy. A boy. I'm disgusted with you. As if he could ever do witchcraft" Godric blushed slightly at the last part, knowing that he himself could do magic, and the young boy could probably do it too, as this town would not convict someone unless absolutely necessary, given it's history.  
He turned his back on the town, trudging up the hill, breaking into a jog as he caught up with Rowena and the boy.  
"What's. Your. name?" ,gasped Godric as he reached the couple, the hill quite a bit steeper than he thought. He motioned at Rowena to stop, and she did so, guiding the boy to the side of the path, and he sat down gladly, obviously grateful for the rest, he was thin and weak and was eyeing the last of Rowena's last hunk of bread. She tossed it to him, smiling at him as he received it expertly, the bread pulled slightly towards his hands, magic she was sure. He devoured the bread, stood up and began to talk,"thank you, I will be on my way now kind lady and noble sir," he began to walk away, off the path, starting up the hill, but Godric grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the safety of the dusty track.  
"What do you think you're doing? We just saved your life, you don't have a clue about what you're doing, you'll be killed!" Godric felt the rage rushing back into his blood, offended that this boy would just reject their help with a sweep of his hand. He continued, "You don't know how to protect yourself. You can't control your magic and you have nowhere to go-"  
"-Excuse me but it is NoNE of your business where I go and what I do. And what do you know about magic, those townsfolk were mistaken, I am not, nor will ever be a sorcerer. "  
Rowena held Godric back by holding up her hand, he immediately fell silent and stood back, letting Rowena take the floor. Softly, as of speaking to an alarmed animal she said, "Listen, we are not trying to patronise you or offend you, we merely were trying to help you: we both come from magical families, and I assume you don't as no witch would let her son be burnt. Come with us, we'll teach you ad help you, then you can be on your way. On your own. So..." She trailed off, shrugging and then offering her hand.  
The boy took it reluctantly, accepting that he would probably not last five minutes without help.  
The older boy smirked and walked on ahead, looking back every now and again to check on the pair.  
Rowena talked to the boy, coaxing him into telling her all about himself.  
She learnt his name; Slytherin, and that he was a muggle born and that he had accidentally come to the town by apparition.  
She knew from his tales that he was both an incredibly powerful wizard, and that he could wrap people down his little finger: she felt drawn to him, felt she had to protect and love him, but she refused to be befuddled, she couldn't let herself let her guard down to a powerful wizard, she had seen what could happen to those who abused their power.


	4. Chapter 4- Meeting Someone New

Meeting Someone New

Helga grabbed a damp cloth, wiping down the oak tables, humming a song as she worked.  
As the morning light filtered through the giant painted windows she sat down, taking a break from the light work.  
The hot morning meant Helga grew tired, and soon after she was done cleaning the tables she had a drink, taking long deep gulps of cold water out of a decanter from behind the bar.  
She picked her apron up off a chair, and, without even looking at the basket in the corner, threw it straight in. She smiled meekly, evidently pleased with the result. Taking a sip of her water she went back to work, this time making pastry, painstakingly making full, meaty pasties that smelled like proper, delicious homemade food.  
Just as she was about to place them into the wood burning stove, a screech came from outside.  
"HELGA! Come here this second you insolent child!"  
She paled, immediately brushing flour that had splattered on to her clothing, straightened her collar and ran out through the door, flinching at the sight of a spindly woman holding a pink shirt, and a red scarf she used to keep herself warm in the winter months, and used to keep her hair back in summer.  
The woman spoke in a harsh, cold voice that reeked of disgust.  
"What have you done, you idiot? This is your father's best and you have ruined it. RUINED IT!" The woman, Helga's mother, reached to strike the girl, but flicked it back down to her side when a booming voice rang out.  
"Heidi, Helga, what are my two favourite girls doing out here in the hot sun? Get inside and I'll make you a drink,"smiled the man, who's as well into his forties. He bore a bristly beard, with dark overalls covering a large belly.  
Almost running inside, Helga ran forwards, sticking close to her loving father.  
She sat down at the bar, trying to stop shaking. Of course she was used to her mothers violence, she had always suffered from it, but recently it had got much worse.

The click of glasses aroused Helga from her distressing thoughts. Avoiding eye contact with her mother, she scooped up her tankard and downed the liquid, smiling at her father, acknowledging that he hadn't actually given her alcohol, but apple juice from their orchard.  
Helga's father winked at her, pulling her into a bear hug that enveloped her completely, but gave her the comfort she needed.  
Resurfacing from the embrace, and gasping for air,Helga said," Father, you said I was old enough now to start learning magic, I would really like to do it now, I've tidied the place up. Please."  
"Of course she can't James, we don't want to give her any ideas. And what makes you think th-"  
"Of course we can Helgie, we'll start right away. Dear, we'll be in the orchard if you require our presence," chuckled James, pronouncing the last sentence in an overly posh tone.  
Blushing, her mother whipped out a tea cloth and started wiping the tables with impeccable precision.  
Skipping outside Helga grabbed a couple of apples from the trees, passing one skilfully to her father, who caught it impressively and took a large bite.  
A few hours later, the pair lay under a tree, basking in the unbearable summer heat.  
Helga held the wand her father had crafted her, a rough, oak an unicorn tail masterpiece that she handled with care, despite being oblivious to any magical spells and potions.  
She had been practicing a simple charm, aguamenti, for many hours, but never gave up, pushing herself to her limit until she lay, exhausted next to her amused father.  
"Don't worry Helgie, you'll soon get the hang of it, just keep trying like a true Hufflepuff. Try once more," he said softly, prodding her gently with his own wand.  
Sighing, he sat up, drew a deep breath and said the charm, squealing when a jet of clear water poured into the waiting jug.  
Giving a cry of mirth, her father grabbed her and together they sang songs, until her mother shouted at them for dinner.  
...

Sorry it's been a while, it has been a really tough time recently and just haven't had the time or willpower to write, so sorry it's short and rubbish, I will probably change it soon.


End file.
